


Details

by FrankieFandom



Series: Beyond Repair [2]
Category: Chicago Fire
Genre: Drabble Collection, Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-02
Updated: 2018-10-23
Packaged: 2019-05-01 06:45:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 3,220
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14514714
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FrankieFandom/pseuds/FrankieFandom
Summary: Drabbles related to Untitled.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is going to be collection of drabbles related to Untitled. The story just wouldn't leave me alone so I've been writing down some more detailed scenes. I still regret not being able to save Casey. It's fairly essential that Untitled is read for them to be fully understood.

Casey was standing outside the shelter. His arms were wrapped around his body. His coat pulled close for warmth. His hood was pulled over his head. It was raining. It felt like it had been raining for a whole week. It was torrential and he couldn't get warm. The ramshackle warehouse that served as the squat wasn't weatherproof. Most of the windows were smashed, most of the boards had been used for fuel, and the icy wind whipped through constantly, bringing rain with it.

After a long wait in line Casey shuffled inside. He still wasn't much warmer. He would need dry clothes for that. His head wasn't clear. He'd got high in the earlier and now he was coming down. His vision was blurry and unfocused. But when voices were raised in anger and threats were made he stepped in. It had been instinct.

Then all of a sudden he was being manhandled up off the floor, his head spinning in pain. He wasn't entirely sure what had just happened. The security guard was standing tall above him. The woman at the desk was speaking to him but he couldn't tell what she was saying. The two men who had started the fight, angry not to be getting bed that night, had gone.

"It's Matt, isn't it?" she asked softly. Trying to look him in the eyes. But he kept his head lowered. His hair fell over his face. "Ok, come with me," she urged. She nodded at the security guard to let him go.

She led Casey to the back office and told him to sit down. She took a first aid kit from a drawer. Eventually he sat down. Eyes darting nervously around the small room. Visibly trembling. Head twitching.

She leaned down a little so she wasn't towering over him as he sat on the edge of the cot they kept in there for overnight staff. "Thanks for your help back there. You didn't have to do that, but I really appreciate it."

Casey didn't speak. His head twitched. He scratched at the back of his hand.

"Can I take your coat? We can get it washed and dried in a couple of hours for you. Want me to do that?"

Casey tried to look at her but he couldn't meet her eyes. He was trying to figure out her intentions. He was sure she was trying to help him but he could hardly think. He was coming down. Had been all afternoon. Now he felt his head would explode. His right eye was already swelling shut.

"Here... let me help you take this off..."

Casey grabbed the edge of his sodden coat, shaking his head. So she moved back and he took it off. She began to check the pockets. He stared at her, focusing for the first time. Scared.

"It's all right. I'm not going to take anything from you."

She passed him the contents of his pockets. As she did his CFD badge slipped from its hiding place in the leather bound diary cover. He stared at it on the floor. Fearful. But she simply picked it up and gave it to him without saying anything. He clutched it in his hand.

"I'll go check what clothes we have that will fit you. Then we can get those washed as well," she nodded at his worn apparel. She smiled encouragingly. "How does that sound? Dry clothes, yeah? Then I'll help get you cleaned up."

He was left alone for a short time before she brought him a pile of freshly laundered clothing. She left him again so he could change, then she took his old clothes to be washed along with his coat.

She opened up the first aid kit. Pulled over the desk chair and sat down in front of him. "Ok, let's get you cleaned up... this might sting a bit..."

Casey had winced and flinched throughout, but she had soon managed to clean the blood from his face and place a couple of butterfly adhesive stitches across the cut over his eye.

"How's that? Feel better?"

He nodded. Responding to her for the first time. He was trying hard but still feeling unfocused.

"Good," she beamed.

She passed him a glass of water and got him a sandwich. He wanted to eat. He really did. But he knew he wouldn't hold it down. Not today.

She asked him about the badge that had fallen from his diary. But he just looked away. She didn't seem to mind though. She talked to him. Kept him company. It was nice. It felt almost normal.

When she brought back his clean dry clothes in a large bag he stood up and thanked her. He'd already been there longer than he should have. She'd already helped him way more than he deserved.

The security guard let him out and he left.

He died one month later.


	2. Discovery

Severide was leaning casually against the kitchen counter when Casey arrived home. He was deliberately waiting for him, wracking his brain over what he'd discovered. He wanted to yell and shout. He wanted to cry, but more than anything he wanted to hold Casey and tell him everything was going to be all right.

"Where've you been?" he asked, probably a little too sternly, when the door shut and Casey walked in.

Casey just chucked his keys onto the side and hung up his jacket. "Had a construction job," he responded monotonously, walking towards the bedroom. He just wanted to be alone away from Severide right now.

"Really?"

Casey's eyes opened wide with surprise at Severide, and he tensed up, running a hand over his still very short hair, his body language betraying his discomfort at being asked. "Why would I lie?" he tried to keep his voice casual and light, watching as Severide just side stepped, revealing Casey's heroin stash on the countertop.

"I don't know, Matt, why would you? I found this." Severide couldn't stand to look at it and stared at Casey instead.

"It's not... erm…" Casey replied, stopping before he said anything else.

"Not what? Not yours? Just keeping it for a friend?"

Severide was clearly devastated by what he had found. Casey couldn't speak. He just shook his head.

"I'm not angry," Severide told him, although in reality he was but he had to keep a tight lid on that or he'd blow up. "I'm upset that you didn't feel like you could tell me. Are you high now? Matt?" He stared intently into Casey's eyes, one sure way to tell if he was lying or not.

Casey shook his head again. Well at least he was telling Severide the truth this time.

"Ok. Have you been high while we've been on shift?"

Casey shifted from one foot to another, still silent, shaking his head again, his eyes averted to one side, he couldn't look at Severide. Scratching the back of his hand, an action that didn't go unmissed by Severide.

"I don't blame you. I blame those bastards who..."

"Please don't," Casey said hoarsely, heart in his throat.

"I don't know what to do…" Severide went on. "How bad is it, Matt?"

"What do you mean?"

"Is it casual use? Or… or do you need it?"

Casey was silent.

"I don't think it's casual, you wouldn't do it casually. How long?"

"We're over, aren't we?" Casey said feebly, still staring at the floor, still unable to look Severide in the eye.

"Matt, how long?"

"Maybe three months." Casey shrugged as if to indicate that he wasn't entirely sure of his answer.

"Ok. All right." Severide paused for effect, but also to give himself chance to figure out what he was going to say next. "So, what are we going to do about it?"

"We?"

"Can we figure this out on our own or…"

"Please don't tell anyone," Casey spoke up suddenly, fear in his eyes.

"I don't know if I can help you… obviously I haven't been helping you because if I had this wouldn't have happened…"

"No, no, no…" Casey shook his head fervently. He was at a loss, he didn't know quite what to say. He knew this had to happen eventually but hadn't been able to face that fact. Until now. Now there was no choice in the matter. He was backed into a corner and his world was crumbling down around him. "It wasn't your… I needed it, I had to… I… I'm sorry… I'm sorry… I won't do it again… I… I'm sorry… I just… I don't know what happened and… it felt good… it felt so good… it helps, it helps me…" Casey was almost breathless and his voice shook as he tried in vain to explain it to Severide.

Severide took a calming breath before he spoke again. "I understand, Matt… baby, I understand, and we're gonna figure this out, all right? We'll figure it out."

Casey just stood in front of him, quite still apart from his hands which now fidgeted as he tapped against his thighs. Severide wanted to walk up to him, put his arms around him, kiss him, make love to him, take his pain away. But all he could do was stand there looking at him. Casey hadn't been able to bear any physical contact since he had been beaten and tortured.

Less than three weeks later Casey overdosed and ended up in the Emergency Room. Whether deliberate or accidental due to a bad batch, no-one would ever know.


	3. Finding Casey

This wasn't the first time Severide had received a phone call from the rehab centre. It wasn't the first time that Casey had taken off, it wasn't even the second. Those times he had come home, but not now. He had been back briefly to pick up some of his things, then seemingly vanished.

Severide finally found him in an old abandoned warehouse, one with a reputation, and it was only the second place Severide had searched for him.

He discovered Casey laying with a used syringe by his side. He got down by him, instinctively reaching out, feeling for a pulse in his neck. It was there, beating slowly. His breaths were slow, skin flushed. He had lost so much weight recently; his cheekbones and jaw were much more defined and Severide could only imagine how he looked under his loose clothing these days.

Severide stared around himself, his nose wrinkled against the offensive stink of urine that hovered in the air. The whole place was rank and vile. He needed to get Casey out.

"Matty?" Severide tried to rouse him by rubbing his sternum a little, drawing only a slight moan from Casey. "Come on baby, you gotta get up. You don't wanna be here..."

"Mmm…" Casey's groan was all the response he got but at least it was a response.

"Matt, c'mon let's get you up…"

"Get off me…" Casey slurred as Severide started to haul him to his feet, prepared for a reaction, and it soon came. Casey's hands flailed at him, trying to shove him away. But his limbs wouldn't do what he wanted and he leaned heavily against Severide, scarcely able to stand up. Boneless and out of his mind.

"Matt, it's me. I'm taking you home. You're not safe here."

Eventually Severide did manage to get Casey into the passenger seat of his car. He was in and out of consciousness the whole time, head flopping and nodding like a rag doll, incapable of holding it steady. His eyes were half closed and kept rolling back in his head.

Severide didn't know what to do anymore. He took him home rather than back to the rehab centre. He supposed he'd take him back there tomorrow but obviously it wasn't working. For now, he'd keep an eye on him, they'd been slowly swapping Casey over to a heroin substitute at the centre and using after that was risky but he didn't appear to have overdosed.

Casey had lost everything apart from Severide. He'd lost his life, his career. None of it was his fault but Severide couldn't pull him out of the trap he'd fallen into and he was scared he wouldn't ever be able to. Maybe the centre wasn't for him, maybe they should try detoxing him at home, it was an option they'd not tried yet because they didn't think it would work. But maybe it would.

Severide just sat and watched when Casey's eyes flickered open lucidly for the first time. It was a few hours after he had found him and got him home into the apartment, where at least he was now safe and warm.

"Hey baby," he spoke softly.

"What happened? I was…"

"You were in rehab, then I got a phone call, then I found you in a warehouse. High. Do you feel better now?" Severide could only just hold back the spiteful edge in his tone of voice. He was feeling bitter at what Casey had done when so many people were trying so hard to help him, himself included, even though he did realise that Casey was unable to control his actions.

"I…"

"You what, Matt? You didn't just come home. You came home and you got your stuff, then you went and got drugs. What's your excuse?"

"I don't have one."

Severide sighed heavily. "I want to help you. You didn't start this."

"Yes, I did. I didn't have to keep…"

"They broke you," Severide spoke quietly.

"I'm sorry."

"I know."

"I didn't mean to leave… but I couldn't stay… I…"

"Matt, if we figure this out, if we get you clean then you might be able to get your job back, how does that sound? Do you want that?"

Casey nodded.

"Ok. Well, how about we just try it with you at home? I'll keep an eye on you… will that work?"

A look of doubt crossed Casey's gaunt face. "I don't know… what about when..."

"When I'm on shift? Well, I'd just have to lock you in the bedroom with enough food and drink for twenty-four hours I guess..." he grinned mirthlessly at Casey, shaking his head in frustration.

Over the months that followed Severide tried his best, so did Casey. They both tried everything. He'd even ended up threatening him with break-up, it didn't work. He tried to get life back on track for the both of them, he made a big deal about Christmas, Casey had always liked the holiday better than he had, but Casey had just got high and he'd left. Severide couldn't keep on top of him, he couldn't watch him twenty-four hours a day and he couldn't lock him away, and every time he went to the rehab centre he would leave quicker each time. Casey would try, he really would, but he couldn't do it, not after everything that had happened to him. He would go for a few days but he just couldn't get past that need, that need for the euphoria, that pain free high. With no income, he had very quickly gone through what savings he had and even ended up being forced to sell his truck for a lot less than it was worth. Just to get money. Desperation had set in a long time ago and he had to get his drugs somehow.

Four months after Severide had found Casey in the warehouse he'd packed up his stuff and left for good.


	4. Heat

Casey knew he had to find some way of getting warm. He was cold and shivering despite the heavy coat he wore. He slowly made his way down to the railway arch a few blocks from the warehouse. It was raining again. He was cold and damp by the time he reached his destination. A fire was burning brightly in one of the old metal bins there, crackling and spitting, devouring the contents of the container.

A small group huddled around it, warming themselves. They shuffled up to make room for him as he walked slowly towards them, muttering a small greeting to the group. He could feel himself growing lightheaded and before he could stop it, he was on the ground. Hands were touching him and he tried to swat them away, fearing they were robbing him. Or worse.

But a voice stopped him.

"Hey, Matt. You ok, man?"

And a face he vaguely recognised was looking down at him.

"Gotta get up…" he croaked in response.

Then hands were lifting him to his feet, holding him close to the fire. Trying to do what little they could for him. But somehow he felt he wasn't long for this world. Something in his head was telling him that now.

As he stood unsteadily by the fire, watching the flames with half closed eyes, his life with Kelly came into his thoughts. Better times in his life when he was happy. Before. He had destroyed all that. Through his own weakness.

He couldn't stand any more.

He pulled away from the circle round the fire, ignoring the calls after him. He headed back to the warehouse but he never made it. He leant against the wall of the building, slipping down onto the ground. He fumbled to get his diary out. He needed to write to Kelly one last time.

He died two hours later.


	5. Phone Call

Casey spotted a tiny glint of silver on the sidewalk below him. He looked around himself but no one was anywhere near him. He picked the coin up, a one-dollar piece, and shoved it deep into his pocket. He kept his fist tight around it as he walked slowly to the nearest graffiti covered phone booth, hoping it hadn't been vandalised beyond use. He fumbled to get the coin out and it dropped down to the concrete, pinging as it hit the ground. He picked it up again and lifted the phone receiver, punching in a number.

A number he knew like the back of his hand.

He could feel himself shaking as he listened to the ring tone.

As a voice answered, he shoved the dollar into the slot, clanging as it went down. _"Kelly Severide,"_ a familiar voice greeted.

Casey closed his eyes for a moment, a tiny smile on his lips as he listened. He had half hoped it would go to voicemail but then relief flooded through him when it didn't.

_"Hello?"_

Casey let out a breath, coughing slightly.

_"Hello? Anyone there?"_

Casey closed his eyes again, trying to concentrate, to commit the voice to memory forever. He never ever wanted to forget it.

_"Matt?"_

Casey's lips wouldn't move and he could hardly draw breath as the voice continued.

_"Matt, is that you?"_

Casey wiped away a stray tear from his cheek with his sleeve.

 _"Matt… just let me know you're safe, please..."_ the voice pleaded at the other end. _"Where are you? Just give me the number and I'll call you right..."_

The dollar credit ran out and the dialling tone cut the connection. He had no more money for another call so he replaced the receiver with a shaky hand and lowered his head, resting his forehead on the booth.

Four months later he died in the rain, one block away from the phone booth, dreaming of Severide.


End file.
